


Letter of Resignation

by samidha



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blades, Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Community: fic_promptly, Dreamwidth, Evil Sam Winchester, Gen, Gen unless you want it otherwise, Hell, Knives, POV Dean Winchester, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Sam and Dean are both in Hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-04
Updated: 2011-05-04
Packaged: 2018-12-12 21:16:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11745339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samidha/pseuds/samidha
Summary: Sam, the Boy King, is writing his letter of resignation.





	Letter of Resignation

**Author's Note:**

> This was for a prompt but I can't remember context.

Dean wipes his blade clean of the soul light he has been tearing from the very center of the demon on his rack. Three human days to go, Sam says. Sam who is drafting his letter of resignation. Sam who has been drafting that letter for what feels like years. He doesn’t want to bring it up. Doesn’t know if he wants to give up his knives either, blades that cut through to the very soul, to the fabric of any demon he can find.

Sam is drafting his letter and then, he says, he is taking Dean home. Back out into the cold of earth, wind and rain that he hasn’t felt on his skin in decades--is it only decades?

Hell has been Sam’s for so long now, and Dean his second in command, his second in everything, but Sam says it’s time for a challenge, and he can no sooner leave Dean here than he can stand to be left, and so they are going.

He has packed his work room away slowly over the time Sam has been working on the letter. This demon, who has taken the unfortunate name of Mordred, is the last, the very last on Dean’s list. The next three days will be spent with Sam, touring the grounds one last time, packing away the odds and ends into the two matching duffels they have had sent down.

Dean would like to spend some more time with Meg on his rack, but there isn’t time, there isn’t, and he will have to come to peace with that. She is one of the only demons to outlast the reign of the Winchesters. He will have to say goodbye to her as well, and goodbye to ending her.

He shivers in anticipation of the cold, of leaving this office, with its strategically placed furnace just on the other side of the door. Most of his knives he can’t take with him--they are powered by the very fabric of hell, and would fade to dreams in the open air--but he packs a knife in one boot holster and a solid scalpel and speculum into his one bag.

He has sent a scout ahead to check and make sure the Impala is still at the Stull cemetary. He expects her to barely be running, but he’ll do all of the repairs himself. He trusts no one else with that, not even Sam, really.

The cold and the wet are so close now he can taste it.

He watches the demon on his rack dissolve into smoke again and nods. "We’re done," he growls, low in his throat and much more gravelly than his voice was when he came here.

He makes the short trip to Hell’s would-be Oval Office and sneaks cat-like up to Sam, whose head is bent over the letter. He gets an arm around his brother and waits to be acknowledged.

"How do you give up eternity?" Sam asks, his exhaustion nearly leaking out of him and into Dean.

"Easy. Tell them you got bored," he says, but it’s not easy, never easy. Already Dean misses a knife in his hand, the feeling of soul-fabric splitting and bleeding.

"It’s the end," Sam says softly.

"But you’ve still got me, kiddo. That’s a hell of a lot better than a lot of people got."

Sam smiles, leans his head back against him, and nods so that he feels it against his ribs.

"It is. It is."


End file.
